"It's all your fault, Jerry," said Charlotte, reproachfully, when
the lady had been restored to consciousness: "Rosa's as good as
gold, except when you make her wicked. I'd put you in the
corner, only a stump hasn't got a corner--wonder why that is?
Thought everything had corners. Never mind, you'll have to sit
with your face to the wall--SO. Now you can sulk if you
like!"

Jerry seemed to hesitate a moment between the bliss of indulgence
in sulks with a sense of injury, and the imperious summons of
beauty waiting to be wooed at his elbow; then, carried away by
his passion, he fell sideways across Rosa's lap. One arm stuck
stiffly upwards, as in passionate protestation; his amorous
countenance was full of entreaty. Rosa hesitated--wavered--and
yielded, crushing his slight frame under the weight of her full-
bodied surrender.

Charlotte had stood a good deal, but it was possible to abuse
even her patience. Snatching Jerry from his lawless embraces,
she reversed him across her knee, and then--the outrage offered
to the whole superior sex in Jerry's hapless person was too
painful to witness; but though I turned my head away, the sound
of brisk slaps continued to reach my tingling ears. When I
looked again, Jerry was sitting up as before; his garment,
somewhat crumpled, was restored to its original position; but his
pallid countenance was set hard. Knowing as I did, only too
well, what a volcano of passion and shame must be seething under
that impassive exterior, for the moment I felt sorry for him.

Rosa's face was still buried in her frock; it might have been